Girls Like You
by rerun van pelt
Summary: SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE: Jason Sudeikis flirts with a black woman.


Jason swished the alcoholic beverage around in the shot glass limply. The cast had just finished up another amazing show and had decided to go out to a nearby bar. Jason was opposed to the idea, but Bobby persuaded him, offering him a few rounds of drinks. The thirty-something couldn't resist free alcohol.

Now, he sat at the bar by his lonesome as Bobby received a graphic grind from some inebriated blonde. "Fat fuck," he cursed under his breath, then downed the rest of the contents. He signaled to the bartender for another refill, his mind slowly succumbing to the buzz.

A rhythm and blues song by some no name blared from the deejay booth, its lyrics suggestive and sultry in manner. Jason bobbed his head to the beat, followed by tapping half-heartedly against the bar. He was beginning to regret coming out with Bobby in the first place. Just then, he felt a hard hand clap against his back, stunning him. "Jason," came the stage whisper of Bobby Moynihan, his breath tainted with Bud Light.

"What's up, Bobby?" he replied nerved.

"I just got a lap dance."

"I saw Bobby."

"…but that's not it, Jason. She wants to take me home," he hiccupped, "She wants to take me to her apartment."

"That sounds," Sudeikis became choosey with his words, "good."

"That's better than good, Jay. That's great."

"Yeah, great."

"Think of it," he continued, "It's me this girl wants. She wants to fuck me!"

Jason shushed him, "Tone it down, Bobby. I'm glad you're getting laid tonight."

Out of his peripheral, Jason saw his friend's blonde dance partner returning to him and Bobby said his final goodbyes before being ushered out of the club by the female.

Jason received his final shot of the night and lethargically put on his jacket, heading in the direction of the door. He'd made it halfway down the bar when he collided with someone, his shirt instantaneously becoming soaked.

"Damn," the other person vocalized.

"I'm sorry," Jason offered, but then subdued. He'd made eye contact with his aggressor, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. His aggressor was of the opposite sex; her long dark hair cloaked her clothed breast and her chocolate eyes made him crave the sweet delicacy, but that wasn't what made his breath hinge in his chest. It was what turned him on; she was black.

She placed the drink she'd been carrying back on the bar and attempted to right the alcohol stain that dampened her once crisp, white blouse. "Damn, I'm so sorry," she apologized, unaware of the fact that he'd subtly been checking her out.

"No, it was my fault," he interjected, "I should have been watching for pretty women leaving the bar." Her laughter was infectious and the white male found himself imaging it an octave lower as if she were moaning.

"You're cute."

"Really?" he said, feigning offense, "I was hoping you saw me as more than just cute. I mean, you're more than just cute."

The woman could sense where the conversation was headed and ran a hand nervously through her locks. "Look, I can kind of see where this is headed and I don't want to be rude…" She paused as waiting for something.

"Jason," he supplied his name.

She nodded, "I'm not saying this to be rude, Jason, but it's just…"

The "but" rang like a bell in Jason's mind, causing him to quickly analyze the situation. He checked her left hand, no wedding ring; on the right hand, there was no engagement ring; her posture became rigid around him and she also ran her hand through her hair, so there was no way in hell she was a lesbian.

"…but white guys just aren't my forte," she finished.

Sudeikis chuckled to himself satisfied; it wasn't anything of major concern. "How so?"

"I like my men black like my coffee, understood?" she ignored his sultry stare. He took this as a sign. "You've never been with one, have you?"

"A black man? Of course," she replied.

"A white one?" he corrected.

She shook her head guiltily. Sudeikis grinned before offering his hand to her. "You'll never know unless you try."

After a few moments of thought, she grabbed her clutch, supplied him with her name, and took his hand, following him out of the bar altogether.


End file.
